


Experiment #5: Loopholes

by WoodsWitch



Series: Lust is Hell [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Ancient Rome, Cunnilingus, Denial, F/F, Female Crowley (Good Omens), Forbidden Fruit, Kissing, Pining, Technically not Breaking Rules, crowley being nice, weird tongue things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28325376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoodsWitch/pseuds/WoodsWitch
Summary: Part 5 of Lust is Hell, 52 BC.In which Crawly helps out a Vestal Virgin in a sticky situation, and discovers this human has a rather familiar talent fortechnicallyfollowing the rules.Aziraphale’s not in this story in person, but it’s still Aziraphale/Crowley because…c’mon. It always is!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Lust is Hell [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995316
Kudos: 15





	Experiment #5: Loopholes

It was a quiet night, as Crawly sashayed through the empty forum. A rare thing, these days, quiet. Why, it was only last year when that fellow Clodius, who’d been so energetic getting free grain for the masses and limiting the power of the censors1, got himself killed in a scuffle with a rival, after which his supporters burned down the senate house. There was a loss; Clodius had certainly added spice to the city. Hadn’t he disguised himself as woman to supposedly seduce the wife of…what’s his name? That fellow who was getting so popular for trouncing the Gauls and then taking over some damp little island up north. She couldn’t much see the point of that, but the man was definitely one to watch.

Crawly halted, as her demonic senses detected a human in distress. Her forked tongue scented the air. Yes, there was a sense of panic coming from the Temple of Vesta. And no wonder – the temple was meant to house a sacred perpetual flame, but there was a distinct lack of smoke rising from the hole in the circular tiled roof. Curious, Crawly slunk up the steps and through the stately colonnade to peer inside. A young Vestal Virgin was flapping her purple-edged white veil frantically over the central hearth and muttering “c’mon, c’mon, _c’mon!_ ”

Crawly cleared her throat. The Vestal gave a strangled squeak and leapt half a foot in the air. Interestingly, she seemed to calm down marginally on spotting the stranger in the doorway, though she was still tense as a deer that hears the hunter’s horn in the distance.

“Problem with your fire?” the demon inquired casually.

The priestess hesitated. But obviously there was no denying the distinct lack of sacred flames. She nodded, blinking her large dark eyes as if she was about to cry.

“What I find works is…you put a bit of tinder on it, then you close your eyes, count to three, and blow on it.”

The priestess gave the dark stranger lounging in the doorway a skeptical look, but she was desperate enough to try anything. When she closed her eyes, Crawly gauged the distance carefully and flicked a spark from her fingertip into the nest of tinder. As the Vestal breathed on it, the flame crackled to life in the dry grass.

Crawly grinned at the Vestal. “There you are, mistress.”

The priestess let out a relieved breath. “Oh! Thank you. You are a miracle worker!” Without her veil, one could see her braided dark hair wrapped about with bands of red and white wool that hung down over her shoulders.

The demon shrugged. “Eh, it’s just a knack.”

Crawly’s eyes sparkled mischievously. They were fairly human-looking in the dark, their pupils nearly round. “What happened, anyway?”

“I don’t know, really,” the Vestal said, carefully adding more fuel to the flame before draping her veil once more over her head and re-pinning it. “I suppose I must have nodded off. When you coughed, I thought for sure you must be lady Flavia. If she had seen the fire out…”

She shivered, and didn’t finish the sentence, but Crawly knew. Since the fire of Vesta going out was said to bring great misfortune to Rome, the Virgin responsible would be beaten rather severely by the high priest. “Well, just as well I’m not her, hmm?”

The priestess smiled. “I think the Goddess herself must have sent you, miss…”

“Crawly. And…hardly. Just passing through. Speaking of which…I suppose I ought to go, before your lady Flavia _does_ come.”

The Vestal nodded. “Yes, of course. But I’ll say a prayer for you, Kurolie.”

Crawly shrugged. “If you must. No blessings, please; they make me itch.”

The priestess’ olive brow wrinkled. “What?”

The demon grinned. “Never mind. Just a joke. You take care mistress.”

“Camila.”

Crawly arched a brow. The Vestal straightened up, her priestessly dignity restored. “If you are ever in need, ask for the lady Camila.”

“Right, thanks. Goodnight, your ladyship.”

Crawly wondered, later, why she had done it. Just as well the angel wasn’t there to see it – he’d probably accuse her of being _nice_ again. That wasn’t it at all, _obviously_. It was…thwarting the authorities. _Yeah. Helping someone get away with something a little bad has to be bad in itself, right? Right. So that’s_ that _sorted._

But she couldn’t help being a little curious about this Camila. Especially when, a day or so later, she’d spotted a chariot carrying the little priestess suddenly stop in the street and turn back in the direction it had come; the murmurs from the crowd suggested this was an unexpected move.

It was almost ridiculously easy to infiltrate the House of the Vestals. Crawly’s black robes were simple and slightly frayed at the hem – not that different from the slaves of the House. And, of course, manipulating perceptions was all in a day’s work for a demon. Besides, kitchen wenches knew all the best gossip.

“Did you hear what lady Camila did?” the one chopping vegetable said.

The one sweeping the floor paused. “No. What now?”

“ _Well,_ there was to be a sacrifice of a bull to Jupiter. She was meant to be bringing the bread, but halfway there she realized she’d brought the wrong batch and had her charioteer turn around. They took a shortcut, and who do you think saw her on the way?”

“Who?”

The cook leaned over conspiratorially. “Well! It was this fellow who was due to be executed for plotting against the consul Pompey. But of course that’s all off now…”

“Ooh, I expect lady Flavia had something to say about that!”

“She did! But lady Camila got to the sacrifice on time, and the thing with the prisoner was an accident, after all. So there wasn’t much lady Flavia could do, other than scold her for her carelessness.”

Crawly grinned to herself, as she arranged figs on a tray. A condemned man received clemency if he happened to see a Vestal Virgin on his way to execution…which was why the Vestals usually took care not to let that happen. But it was a widespread opinion that the man in question had been innocent – an opinion that Camila shared, perhaps?

The priestess was seated at a small table, unwrapping the bands of wool from around her head when Crawly sidled in with the figs.

“Oh! It’s you!” Camila looked startled, but then she smiled like she was genuinely pleased to see Crawly. “I didn’t know you worked for the House. You should have said!”

“Sorry, lady,” the demon replied, setting the figs down.

“Oh, don’t apologize. Just come give me a hand with these braids.”

They were very elaborate braids – seven of them, three pairs tied into half square-knots at the back of the head, one coming off the front section that had been wrapped around a cord, and all wrapped around again toward the front. Crawly unraveled them one by one with her long fingers, and ran a comb through the long dark curls that were released.

“You know, you have very unusual hair,” Camila commented, peeking at the demon in her bronze hand mirror. “It’s rather lovely, though. Sort of…fox-colored.”

“Thank you, mistress.” 

“Kurolie…” Camila said musingly. “Is that a Greek name?”

“I…lived in Greece,” Crawly said carefully. “Long ago.”

Camila seemed to recall she was talking to a slave, and such questions might stir up bad memories. “Oh, I see.” The priestess turned, perhaps meaning to apologize, but something else seemed to catch her eye. “That mark…Did your old master give you that?”

Crawly rubbed her serpent tattoo. How to explain, or pass it off? “Eh. My old mistress, I suppose you’d say. When she got tired of me.”

“ _Tired_ of you?”

The incredulousness of the question – the implied _how could anyone get tired of_ you _?_ \- did odd things to Crawly. The demon shrugged. “She never really explained. But I’m told I asked too many questions.”

Camila’s dark eyes flashed. “Well. I should hope they value you better here.”

Crawly gave her a crooked smile. “Still get ordered around. But they’re…more honest about it.” That was the one benefit of hell, really. All the lower downs might be vicious, bureaucratic, and untrustworthy – but they didn’t pretend to be _nice_. They didn’t try to tell you that what they were doing was _right_. There was something refreshing about that, even after all these centuries. If someone wanted to eat your liver, you bloody well knew it.

The Vestal frowned thoughtfully. “You did me a great service the other night, Kurolie. I ought to reward you.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t worry yourself about that, mistress,” Crawly said lightly.

“No. Honor demands it, I think. So…” She stood, and placed one soft hand on Crawly’s shoulder, one on her cheek. “There, now. You’re free.”

Crawly’s lip twisted. “I don’t think you can free _me_ , lady.”

The priestess looked confused. “What do you mean? The touch of a Vestal…”

“Oh, I know,” the demon said hurriedly. “And thank you. But that’s not what I meant.”

Camila lowered her hands and frowned. “What… Oh. Do you mean that a freedwoman still isn’t really free?”

Crawly made a non-committal noise. That _hadn’t_ been what she meant – _once a demon, always a demon_ , was what she _meant_ – but Camila had made an interesting point. And she wouldn’t have been herself if she hadn’t followed it up with: “Are _you_ free, lady?”

The Vestal arched a dark brow. “I’m starting to see what you meant about asking too many questions!” But she seemed to be considering the question. “Yes, I think. More than most, anyway.”

That was fair, Crawly supposed. Besides having the power to free slaves and prisoners, Vestal Virgins could give evidence without an oath, had right of way on any street, and - unlike other women - could manage their own property. Still: “Bit of a cost to it, though, isn’t there?”

Camila blushed rather charmingly. “Is there?” she said innocently.

“Eh, you know. With the no men, and whatnot. Especially given…”

The demon waved a hand vaguely. Vestals were chosen quite young, somewhere between six and ten. They were meant to be physically perfect, but all that really meant was that they shouldn’t have any bits missing or any weird skin conditions. But Camila really was _perfect_ , so far as Crawly could tell, with her abundant dark curls, smooth olive skin, delicate chin, and large doe-like eyes. The garments of a Vestal were rather voluminous and deliberately modest, but by the way they hung Crawly was fairly sure there was a pleasant degree of curviness under there somewhere.

Camila leaned her chin on her hand and smiled. In keeping with the rest, it was a lovely smile, rosy lips revealing a line of white teeth. Not at all a usual thing among women rich enough to afford sweets! “Happily, I can’t say that’s ever been much of a temptation,” she said.

 _Huh. Chosen a bit young for_ that _to be self-selection too_. “Lucky you.”

“Mmm. I suppose so.”

Crawly being Crawly, she had to ask: “So…what does tempt you, then?”

Camila gazed up at her through her lashes. “Would it be awful of me to say: a miracle-worker with fox-colored curls?”

 _Well, I walked into that one_ , Crawly thought, as the Vestal rose up on her tip-toes to pull the demon into a kiss. It was quite a lovely kiss, but then Crawly remembered something.

She flailed and pulled away. “Gnnh! No! Bad idea!”

Camila flushed. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I misread…”

She hadn’t, not exactly. Crawly didn’t feel much _pre-emptive_ desire for humans, so to speak. Of course, there were some who could be very appealing, and what tempter worth her salt wouldn’t get a bit of a kick out of being desired? But…The demon swallowed and held up her hands. “Look, I just mean – Don’t go thanking me for getting you out of a thrashing by doing something that’d get you _buried alive_!”

“Oh!” Camila smiled. “That’s very sweet of you to be worried.”

“Uh. Seems like something worth being worried about,” Crawly pointed out.

“True… _if_ it counted.”

Crawly frowned, confused. “Wouldn’t it?”

The priestess pursed her lips. “Not _technically_ , I think. So long as we didn’t…break anything.” She raised an eyebrow meaningfully.

“Huh.” Crawly considered this. It was true that Roman men seemed to have trouble wrapping their heads around the idea of women actively desiring _anything_ beyond maybe a pretty necklace2. The idea of two women desiring each other would probably make their brains explode. After all, no one seemed to raise an eyebrow at Diana, hanging out in the woods with her nymphs and huntresses. Of course, the goddess was said to have a habit of turning any men who spied on them into animals to be torn apart by their own hounds; that probably bought a lot of no questions. Then again, a bit of magical shielding in _this case_ probably wouldn’t get _Crawly_ in trouble, would it? Considering it involved a human willfully bending the rules, after all. It probably wouldn’t even matter if Crawly had to put it that way to hell; this human seemed to do enough surreptitiously virtuous things to cancel out a little vow-bending. And Crawly _had_ been wondering what this particular combination might be like. “Well, when you put it _that_ way…”

As she let Camila pull her down into another kiss, the demon waved a hand, encasing the room in an invisible bubble. Whatever happened, no one would hear a thing, and no one would come looking for them. The human’s lips were soft and warm as she guided Crawly backwards until the back of her knees bumped into the Vestal’s couch and folded. Ah, much better – that erased the rather awkward height difference! Camila seemed pleased with it too, uttering a happy little moan as she folded herself into the demon’s lap and wrapped her arms around her neck, kissing her ever more deeply.

It was rather blissful, and it took Crawly a moment to realize the Vestal was shedding her white layers of _palla_ and _stola_ and was tugging at the demon’s black robes as well.

Soon, they were both naked, and the sight made Crawly catch her breath. “Fuck. You really are gorgeous.”

Camila blushed. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Pfft. Shut up,” Crawly muttered, pulling her close once more.

Crawly would never admit it out loud, but she was utterly weak for soft things. It probably came from being so lean and angular herself. True, a female corporation padded out the hard edges a little bit, but not by much. Camila, on the other hand… The Vestal’s breasts were, much like her own, not more than neat handfuls – and, oh shit, did it feel amazing when they rubbed together like that! – but her hips were glorious, curving out below her slim waist like the shoulders of an [amphora](http://spenceralley.blogspot.com/2015/12/ancient-greek-pots-at-getty.html). And that pillowy bottom…Crawly couldn’t resist grabbing hold with both hands.

Camila gasped, and rocked her hips against the demon’s thigh, seeking friction. Crawly could already feel a smear of wetness against her skin. The demon reached down to slide her fingers between those soft, rosy folds. The Vestal moaned quietly, before whispering a reminder: “Carefully.”

 _Right. Yes._ Also, Crawly really wanted a closer look at... _Ah._

“Turn around,” she whispered, and leaned back on her elbows.

Camila looked confused for a moment. Then she grinned and shifted round until she was kneeling over the demon, who now had a perfect view of that stunning arse. Crawly expressed her appreciation by covering it with kisses and bites just light enough not to leave a mark, then plunging her tongue into the Vestal’s eager cunt. Camila gave a muffled squeak, then – having fully caught on to the plan – lowered her head to tease Crawly’s nub with her tongue.

Still, had this been a contest, the human would have been rather at a disadvantage. Being part snake, Crawly could do all sorts of weird things with her tongue, and she took advantage of the lack of visibility to do so. She even let it go fully long and forked at one point, letting it slide gently over that ring of membranous tissue humans put such an odd amount of importance on - healing any weak spots while she was at it, just in case.

“Auugh. Fuck. _How_ are you doing that?” the Vestal panted.

“Mmm. Just naturally talented, I guess,” Crawly whispered back, before sucking hard on the priestess’s clit and tipping her over into her third orgasm of the evening.

They lay tangled up together for a while afterward, and Crawly wondered why the weight of Camila’s head on her chest made her feel so desolate, somehow.

Then the priestess yawned, and patted Crawly’s thigh. “Well. I suppose I should get ready for my shift with the flame.”

Crawly watched as she stretched and began to dress herself, those enticing curves vanishing once more under layers of pale cloth.

“Help me do my hair?” Camila inquired.

Crawly nodded and pulled on her own robe. She didn’t quite trust herself to speak, but her nimble star-crafter fingers remembered the pattern of the _seni crines_ perfectly. The demon had the odd sense of time running in reverse as she re-plaited the braids she had previously undone, and tied the _infulae_ of unspun wool around them to re-form the turban-like structure over which Camila would drape her veil. The Vestal did so now, securing it at her breast with an ornate _fibula_ pin.

“How do I look?”

Crawly swallowed. “Perfectly proper, my lady. Pure as the driven snow.”

“Good.” Camila nodded gravely, but her dark eyes danced with a hidden mischief. “Will I see you later, Kurolie?”

Crawly snapped her fingers, and Camila froze in her tracks. The demon groaned. _Fuck, I did it again, didn’t I?_ She’d been trying not to think about the revelation she’d had nearly five hundred years ago about her feelings for the angel. Just to be sure of not inflaming them further, she’d steered clear of plump, bookish men with blonde curls. She’d thought it was working; sometimes she almost managed to forget. But that prim yet knowing look was just all too familiar, wasn’t it? She’d seen it on the angel’s face a thousand times, whenever he was pleased about something he wasn’t supposed to be pleased about, whenever he let Crawly talk him into something he secretly wanted. Not that Aziraphale would ever want _Crawly_ , not like she wanted. But, if he _did_ , this would be just how it would go, wouldn’t it? He’d dance gleefully over the pit, melt Crawly into a puddle, and then resume his fussy, spotless persona as if nothing had ever happened. And bless it if that wasn’t simultaneously the hottest and most devastating thought Crawly had ever had!

The demon sighed and turned to the frozen priestess. “You can remember this, if you like. But you’ll also remember that, let’s see… that you told lady Flavia about freeing Kurolie, and she was a bit grumpy but went along with it. And you’ll know that Kurolie went back to her home in, um, Macedonia. Yeah. That should do.” She snapped her fingers again but let herself fade from human view. Camila blinked, and looked vaguely disoriented. Then she smiled and plucked a few figs from the platter before making her way toward the temple. Crawly watched her go, then closed her eyes, stretching out her occult senses. Yes, there it was – a faint but familiar ethereal bright spot, somewhere to the east, a guiding star Crawly couldn’t help but follow. She sighed again and started walking.

1\. The censors of ancient Rome were not much concerned with books; rather they ran the census and supervised public morality and government finances. Very unusually, Clodius prevented them from expelling any citizen from the senate or from imposing punishments without a trial.Back

2\. Really, the idea that Atalanta ended up married to Hippomenes just because she couldn’t resist shiny things was absurd, in Crawly’s view. She knew exactly what she was doing, picking up those golden apples. (Wrong mythology, of course…but the Greeks had much the same blind spot.)Back

**Author's Note:**

> Vestal Virgins were dedicated to the Vesta (Hestia in Greek mythology) and were responsible for maintaining the sacred fire at the heart of Rome, guarding important objects like the statue of Athena supposedly carried by Aeneas from Troy, and officiating at festivals. They spent ten years as student, ten as servant, and ten as teacher, during which time they were expected to maintain their virginity and general moral uprightness. In return, they enjoyed rights far beyond those of most Roman women. After their thirty-year pledge was up, they were free to leave and to get married. While it was considered lucky to marry a former Vestal, few seem to have chosen this option, and of those who did many seemed to suffer regret or melancholy. If a Vestal let the fire go out, though, she would be whipped, and if convicted of breaking her vow of chastity she would be buried alive.
> 
> However, interestingly…the ancient Romans (the male writers, anyway) didn’t really have a concept of sex without penetration and a skewed dominance hierarchy. In heterosexual pairings the woman was by default considered the less dominant. While male homosexual attraction was fully acknowledged, for a higher-ranking man the only socially acceptable scenario was to pick a lower-ranking partner - slave, prostitute, or actor, usually mid-twenties or younger - and always be the top. Of course, it is worth remembering that, wherever there are restrictive rules around gender and sexuality, some proportion of the population always ends up breaking them! There was some recognition of the fact that women sometimes desired other women, but this was usually imagined as involving one of them essentially pretending to be a man. While I doubt Camila’s rationalization would hold much water in court, I do suspect this bias in thinking tended to let a lot of Roman lesbians fly right under the radar.
> 
> Camilla’s elaborate hairstyle and headdress is based on [ this recreation](https://earthsky.org/human-world/video-re-creating-the-hairstyles-of-the-early-roman-vestal-virgins) by hairdresser and amateur archaeologist Janet Stephens. 
> 
> Also, side note… I find it fascinating that an aggressive culture like ancient Rome put such weight on Vesta, the most introverted member of the pantheon. All the other gods and goddesses were off making war and seducing humans and getting in scraps with each other, and Vesta was all: “You guys have fun. I’ll just be over here with a cup of tea, uh, making sure the fire doesn’t go out. Yeah. Vitally important.”


End file.
